The sky lay in a slaughtered wreck, its clouds replaced by merciless mists of blood. The thunder that struck illuminated the land with a sickly rust brown. In the very center of this world, a revolution claimed the sky, darkening it with a chaotic churn of shrill ashen black. A figure was seen riding away from the eight-petalled land, his horse's hooves crashing into the earth violently, spurts of froth flying from its sweating mouth while blood swam in its eyes. The rider was massive, far too heavy for the horse, his body crowded with legions of calloused muscle. Rotting chains tore their way across his body as a menacing snake lies atop his head, arching its slick body into a wicked curve. The demon contorts his disfigured face into a sneer, satisfied with having accomplished his task.
At that very moment, from three other petals of the land, horses charged in, their riders black, red, and white.
The students of Hogwarts sat in the Great Hall enjoying the first breakfast of November. The day was perfect – the skies a cold blue with the slight chill of approaching winter and the last leaves of autumn clinging stubbornly onto their branches. The students chattered excitedly about the success of the Halloween Ball – all but three Gryffindors. The oddity of the Gryffindors on this day was, they were the least lively of all the houses. "Cheer up, Harry," Ron said while stuffing a biscuit in his mouth, "She isn't the only girl out there. And anyway, she is a Slytherin. And you still have Cho."
Hermione gave Ron a look of slight disapproval. "Don't say that, Ron," she chided, "We all know she's a wonderful person." The girl turned to Harry, saying, "Don't worry, I'm sure she had a good reason for leaving the dance last night."
Harry frowned, his green eyes darkening a shade. "What good reason would anyone have for leaving with Draco Malfoy? And isn't it a bit peculiar that both Draco and Natalia aren't at breakfast today?"
All three looked to the Slytherin table, and sure enough, Draco Malfoy was not there. Just then, a forceful crash came from the doors as an enormous man came dashing in, his warm golden aura filling the room immediately. His once jolly face was set in a deep frown, his brown eyes shadowed with great anxiety. He was dressed in full armor, a resilient breastplate restraining his massive chest, an arched bullion helmet resting atop his golden curls, and a heavy sword slung at his side. "Albus!" he cried, striding hastily up to the staff table in a hasty dash, "It has begun!"
"…And the gods, they have separated?"
Asklepios nodded gravely at the Headmaster, saying in a low voice, "Apparently, one of the younger gods was informed of the Shangri-La, and in learning of it, assumed that the older gods did not tell them of the weapon because the elders were planning to rid the heavens of the younger gods."
Dumbledore frowned, his spectacles lowering slightly on his nose. "Who informed the gods of the Shangri-La?"
"I presume one of the trickster demons…but it is far more complicated than that. Someone must have wanted a rift amongst the gods, therefore sent this demon to inform the younger ones of the Shangri-La. The wand was just a myth to them, just like the rest of the mortals believed, but in learning that it was real, they assumed that their deaths would be the apocalypse." He looked very closely at the wizard, leaning forward, whispering, "For you do know, that the Shangri-La has the power to kill gods."
The Headmaster's face darkened more than any absence of light could make it, folding his hands carefully together. "No, I was not aware of that."
"Yes," the god replied, "Neither were we, until Grindelwald was killed."
The old wizard sat back, momentarily stunned in dismay. "He could not have been a god."
"He was a very minor deity, but nevertheless, a god. And you see, now we, the elders, understand why SaDaga would not tell us his foresight of the apocalypse."
"Was he not banished from the heavens for that?"
A look of regret crossed the healer's face. "Yes, unlike what most believe, he was not cast out because of the vision he had given Ravi."
The two sat in a dismal silence, contemplating the possibilities of the future. "Why would SaDaga not tell the older gods of his foresight?"
A great sadness and remorse entered the god's eyes. "If he had told us that the apocalypse would come about by the gods turning on each other, we would have become suspicious of one another and possibly turn against ourselves, therefore making apocalypse approach before its proper time."
"And the younger gods," Dumbledore asked, "What do they make of this?"
"I presume they will make allegiances with different Magicals. I hear that Mab has been resurrected. I can almost guarantee that they will become allies with her." After a moment, he added, "They have already sent the Daeshtar to retrieve the Graeae's Eye."
"Ah, yes, the horsemen. The Bearer, Natalia, fended them off a week ago, while she was doing her Offense Against the Dark Arts training, and found the dwarf, trapped in his home. I am relieved to say that the Graeae's Eye is in our possession now."
"I see," the god said quietly, the lines on his face softening a little, "All we can do now is wait for the elders' decision."
Natalia tossed and turned in her bed, unable to wake from her terrible dreams. A man with chains bound across his chest chased her as three horsemen pursued her from behind him. The man eventually caught her and turned her around, thrusting his tarnished face at her. "Come," he hissed, "We will show you the fruits of darkness." She struggled under his grasp, inching away from the snake that prepared to strike at her. "Säässtma ssina!" she cried. The snake paused momentarily, considering the girl. It then recoiled back, swiftly sinking its fangs into the man's neck. At that moment, Natalia jolted awake, gasping for air. The room spun around her as she clutched the sheets trying to steady herself. The sun scorched her skin as beads of perspiration matted her forehead. She clumsily stumbled out of bed, looking at the sundial on the way to the bathroom. It was well past the time for her first class.
Ron sat in Divination, bored stiff from trying to understand Professor Trelawney's lecture on gastromancy. The professor dispersed the students to pair together to try ventriloquism and gastromancy for themselves. "Sheesh," Ron groaned to Harry, "This is going to be such bloody crud. How are we supposed to do this?"
Harry was still in a gloomy disposition, and muttered something about concentrating on going into a trance and lowering one's voice. Ron nodded in confusion and clenched his eyes shut, trying to get into a trance. Harry sat sulking, hoping that the class would soon end. His scar began to itch a bit and he placed his hand on his forehead, trying to rub the irritating feeling away. After a minute, the tickle went away, but suddenly his scar stung with an icy chill. Harry clutched his head, crying out in pain, and then blacked out.
Ron opened his eyes when he heard a heavy thump next to him. "Harry!" he cried, running to the boy's side. "Harry, wake up!" The redhead grabbed the other boy's shoulders and shook his body, trying to revive him. Harry began trembling, his skin breaking out in cold sweat. Ron shouted for Professor Trelawney, who came to the boy's side, feeling his forehead. At her touch, Harry sat up, his eyes flying open, causing light to explode from his pupils. The green of his eyes had altered to an intense pale light, gleaming into the professor's face. His quivering lips parted mechanically as if he was a puppet, and a powerful rumbling voice rose from the depths of his chest.
"Two have risen and two will fall. Bestowed upon them is the gift of which they will prophesize for 1,260 days. They will be scorned and they will be exalted. I, the Wizard of the Wood, the Seer of the Heavens, am their keeper until the hour has come. Whoever harms or opposes them during the days will be overwhelmed."
Harry collapsed back on the floor, unaware of the vision he had just prophesized. Ron sat stunned as Professor Trelawney quickly retrieved a parchment and wrote down the prophecy in great detail. "Mr. Weasley," she said hastily, "I want you to take Mr. Potter to the hospital wing while I go give this to Headmaster Dumbledore." She turned back to the class, saying, "Everyone is to write about tealeaf reading while I am gone. This will be due next class." The professor scurried out the door, intent on showing the Headmaster her latest forecast.
Dumbledore sat rubbing his eyes as Professor Trelawney sat eagerly in front of him, waiting for his approval. He sighed. This was too much for one day. First the gods, then the vision, and now this. He looked up at the professor in front of him. "Sybill, it just so happens, that moments before you came in, I also had a vision." The woman let out a small theatrical gasp. "Yes, although, unlike Harry, it was an actual premonition, not a prophecy. Do you recall who the Wizard of the Wood is?"
The woman sat silently, thinking hard. After a moment, her eyes widened, and she let out a small cry. "No…it can't be possible. Do you mean, that it was Merlin himself?"
The wizard nodded silently, looking very grimly at her. She shook her head in disbelief, wringing her hands in amazement. "Does this mean that…that Harry is one of the prophets?"
Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair, deep in thought. "It is quite possible," he said quietly, "For in my vision, the wizard informed me that I was to be one of the prophets, and the other, one from Hogwarts." After a moment, he added, "However, I think it best that you keep this to yourself, and go back to your classes. We do not want to alarm the students." She nodded tentatively, getting up and exiting his office. By dinnertime, everyone at Hogwarts had heard of the visions and believed that Harry Potter was the new prophet.
Natalia slowly trudged to the Great Hall, dreading dinner with the Slytherins. The Gryffindors had shunned her from their table during lunchtime for abandoning Harry during the dance on the previous night. She felt like she had been drugged as she labored her way to the Hall, her limbs seeming like heavy iron weights. "Natalia," a voice said behind her, rather tentatively. She turned around wearily, casting a tired eye on Hermione.
"Oh, Hi Hermione."
The brunette nodded curtly, looking at Natalia with hidden suspicion. "Natalia, I wanted to ask you about the dance. Why did you –"
A hand grasped Natalia's arm, turning her around. "Natalia! I've been trying to find you all day!" The girl turned around and almost cried out when she saw Draco. Her heart sank at the thought of what Hermione would make of this. "I need to talk to you about last night," he said urgently, "I hope you don't mind, Granger."
Hermione raised a disdainful eyebrow and shook her head coldly. After one last disappointed look at Natalia, she left for the Great Hall. Natalia nearly ran after her, but Draco held her back, saying, "Let her go. What does it matter what they say about you? They're bloody Gryffindors." The girl opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. "Listen, the dwarf, he's gone. This morning, I went to the quarters Dumbledore gave to him and couldn't find him. I've been looking for him all day and haven't found him anywhere."
Natalia frowned, contemplating on what the boy had just told her. "Perhaps he went with Asklepios when the healer left this afternoon. I'm sure nobody has come and taken him. Dumbledore has been watching for his safety closely."
Draco nodded skeptically, looking out into the courtyard. "If you think so."
Dinner passed like a slow tragic opera for Natalia. She sat next to Draco and his two cronies, listening to them debate over the house points. She could feel Pansy and her minions' stares on her, hear them talk about her betrayal of the house. The girl sighed and picked at her food. Today was her Father's birthday. She had not been able to do anything in remembrance of him for the entire day, and sadness just added to her growing agitation. Every scrape of metal against plate, every sound of pumpkin juice being sipped grated her until she thought she would snap. She sat staring at her plate, wishing she could pick up her fork and stab into it, shattering the china into pieces. Instead, she looked to the staff table, saw Snape, and scowled. She did not want to go to Offense Against The Dark Arts tonight.
The Potions Master stood next to a cauldron, allowing the pungent smells of simmering ginger root to fill his nose. The door slammed open, bring with the noise a gloomy, cross Slytherin. Natalia threw her fencing gear down on the table, causing her gladius' sheath to clang against the wood. "My, we're in a lovely disposition today, aren't we, Miss Slytherin."
The girl glared at the professor, walking slowly over to the cauldron. "What is my assignment today?" she asked tersely.
The Potions Master looked at her dangerously. "Never take that tone with me, Miss Slytherin. It will prove most detrimental to your health."
The girl scowled, and replied, "Oh? And I suppose that the reason behind your tone of voice everyday is either because you are losing your fight with mid-life crisis, or that you are abusing your power."
The professor looked at her, a great glower darkening his features. He lifted the ladle from the potion and slammed it onto the table, hoping the girl would flinch. She did not. In a very low voice, he said, "I suggest you either apologize or begin eating your words, Miss Slytherin, unless you want to have detention for the rest of the month."
She sniffed and rolled her eyes. "You should know very well that it would have no effect on me. This," she gestured with her hands around the room, "Is already detention! I never chose to be the only person on this damned planet that can withstand the stupid wand's power! I never even wanted to be a Magical! Don't you ever go around suggesting what I should or should not do, because you have no idea what it is like to live my life."
He looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "Very well," he whispered, "If that is the way you want it. I will leave your training in the hands of Professor Austerus from now on. And you can say goodbye to your friends in Advanced Potions because you will not be invited back." He went back to his potion, offering his back to the girl.
Natalia snorted. "You think that can stop me from becoming the One by ending my training? It will not. It has already been written in Fate, and nothing, not even this bloody school or any of you half-witted professors can keep me from being who I am to be."
The Potions Master turned around, his eyes ablaze with fury. "Never insult the school or its faculty!" he growled, raising his voice for the first time, "You have no idea how much each one of us have sacrificed for the well being of the students and you." In a low voice, he added, "And don't think that you are special in any way, Miss Slytherin. Just because it is your Father's birthday and you have no one to celebrate it with does not give you the privilege to condemn half the world in order to satisfy your insolent rage."
Natalia cried out in fury, appalled at his comment about her Father. She turned, grabbed her gladius and unsheathed it, bringing the brilliant diamond blade to his neck. Its luminous white glow gleamed against the professor's neck, stinging his skin with its icy touch.
"I will not be subjected to your verbal abuse. Settle this matter like a true Slytherin, professor. Prove your worth with the blade of a gladius."
Snape slowly raised his hand to the blade, removing it from his neck. "Miss Slytherin, you have put yourself in a very dangerous position. For this act of offensiveness, you may be expelled."
The girl swiftly pulled her blade from his hand, drawing blood from his pale skin. "If you will not accept the duel, then by tradition, I will have to maim you to uphold my honor." She brought her sword down on his shoulder, at which he jumped back, missing her blow by a millimeter. She swung at him again just as he dropped to the ground, rolling behind his desk. The girl ran after him, rage taking over her mind like a virus. Her sword cut through the air as Snape grabbed underneath his desk, meeting her blade with his own just before her sword met his face. The room resounded as her pale blade met his black diamond one. The two swords were an obvious mirror of their souls: calloused from the events of life, so hardened that nothing could break them. Snape pushed her blade away, leaping back up in time to parry another attack. He blocked all her blows as she advanced on him, pushing him out of the classroom. The hallway flashed with a blaze from Natalia's gladius as the light reflected off Snape's. Two Slytherins passed by and gawked at the heated duel between the Head of the House and the Slytherin heir. After a moment, one of them ran off to get the other Slytherins.
Natalia charged at Snape, frustrated at his refined graceful style. He blocked all her blows with defensive moves, steering clear of the offensive ones. The professor caught her sword with his, thrust her blade up, and grabbed her wrist, slamming her against the wall. "Stop this madness now, Natalia, before one of us gets injured."
The girl gave out a strained cry and hit his head with the butt of her gladius, causing him to lose his grip on her. She whipped around and slashed at him, catching his robes and cutting them apart. Snapping the sword back, she stabbed at him just as the professor sluggishly moved his head to the side, causing her sword to meet granite with a clang.
The pale shadow of a man stood at the end of the hallway, watching the approaching duelers with great amusement. He held his cane loosely as he watched the livid Slytherin hack at the Potions Master, missing him each time by an inch. The man scowled at the gaping children around him. They seemed more fascinated at this duel than with a Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch game. He walked towards the duelers, undaunted by the danger of being slashed open by the girl.
Natalia forgot about breathing, forgot about thinking, forgot everything except for hurting the man that insulted her Father. She did not understand her fury, but rode it like a raging train. Snape got off the wall again and struck at her for the first time. She looked into his face and saw great irritation in his eyes. She blocked his blow, spun around, and slashed her gladius up, its tip catching on his blade, carving a wicked gash into the diamond surface. She sneered triumphantly as her sword rang with a sonorous sound, vibrations traveling down to her hand. At that very moment, she brought her blade down on his head, driven by her crazed wrath, and prepared to slice open the professor's throat. A thin edge of metal intervened, and with an abrupt flick of the wrist, wrapped around the girl's sword, flinging it out of her grip and into another's hand – Lucius Malfoy's. He swiftly flipped both swords and brought them down, resting them on the girl's slender throat.
